Minds in an Epic
by billffire
Summary: This will be a collection of vignettes, centered around issues that the characters in Zelda V had to deal with. Link's Story is up for now, I'll be adding Malon's and Zelda's very soon.


The following is the first in a series of vignettes about the various characters of Zelda: Ocarina of Time. The vignettes are written to show what is happening to the characters during the course of the game. It being such a dark future I chose a darker setting for these. To abate any confusion this one is about Link. Happy reading. I truly hope you enjoy it 

It is eve of the day, when the shadows stretch and the sun yawns and the crystal stars begin to glimmer. As the golden blanket of day recedes, allowing the cold covering of night to pass. Below the changing sky, across the wide field, and to the shores of the clear lake one sees a form half shrouded in darkness; upon the ground he sits, leaning against a skeletal tree on an isolated isle. As one nears they see his eyes shut tight, and his breath shallow. His skin glistens in the setting light, warming slowly the chilling waters from his face and clothes. Though he is washed of dirt and grime, the taint of blood remains, not upon his person but upon his heart. For now in the silence of dusk he rests from his weary quest, now one step closer to completion. Though, now, with one burden behind he can let forget the rest, for this single sunset. Thusly does he let the worries wash away like the rivulets of water trailing from his hair. 

Night now descends wholly, basking the land in howls and shadow. Creatures now awaken for their nocturnal habits, seeking to reap death and destruction; monsters bent by one will to feed upon wanderers of the darkness. Bent by one will to hunt those living in shadow who would see the end of the evil. Thing's of the light they cower from, fearing the intensity, but at the lake there exists nothing of the light, only of blood and ruin. A pack of creatures skitter across the water towards a dangerous, yet familiar scent. It reeks of fire and brimstone, a harbinger and death and destruction, something akin to themselves. Except there lies in this scent a deadly undercurrent, something that repulses their very nature. With these thoughts of confusion they converge on the tiny isle, laying with welcome arms or waiting with gnashing teeth. 

The pack of seven creatures begin to mount the isle, with its lonely tree and lone figure, their skittering heard above the rustling waters. The figures' eyes spring open to reveal icy daggers that pierce the rough hides of the monsters. In that moment they know he is no ally, leaping forward to fulfill their purpose, to kill. Yet, as they strike to fulfill their deadly purpose, he too is fulfilling his as he draws both sword and shield going into action. The seven leap as one, but only five land at the point where the lad laid. For two have already been cut down from the air, dying slowly in a flurry of green fire. A dark shadow now casts itself across the five remaining, though they should feel fear, they cannot. In a rush the lad plunges into them, sword swiftly striking. As green fire erupts in the front of the pack, limbs are seen flying. The green fire dies, and a swirl of red overtakes them all, instantly creating a heatless bonfire of emerald death. 

Fires die, once again plunging the lonely isle into darkness. Slumping over, his breath and heart rate not even phased, the figure lets shudders ripple through his body. With his head slumped in sadness, he allows crystal tears to fall heavily onto mount. He weeps not in mourning for the loss of the creatures, but for the loss of humanity and compassion. He weeps for his efficiency and strength. He weeps for a blackened heart, burned in battle and forged with death. Sorrow is what he holds close now, wallowing in the loss. So the night passes slowly, as he burns the tears from his eyes. Dawn comes with a sudden burst of light across the lake, rising into the air, bringing his sodden heart with it. He stands tall now, greeting the light, though he may still be cask in shadow. Dropping the sorrow he embraces the cold facts: he is the Hero of Time, none else can carry the burden, alone must he triumph, he is there only ray of hope. 

And it is this knowledge that fortifies him, letting him place one foot in front of the other, trekking off the desolate isle and resuming the long and arduous road. For a quest has been placed upon his shoulders, one so heavy the world alone is not the only cost. A quest he will complete and set all free, yet as hope rises his soul descends. As this quest is being slowly yet surely fulfilled, it is with each step forward taken, plunging him further and further into darkness. Which is the irony he knows; for to bring light into the land, freeing it from evil's grasp, the land must rely upon a youth whose soul will ultimately be consumed by darkness. 


End file.
